Morning Coffee

Morning Coffee

-          For Barb upon her well-deserved retirement

At the corner store

Wes tells the girl to grab whatever she’d like,

to put it on his tab that is forever running.

The little girl, shivering, underdressed,

shaking a touch, perhaps from what I’m told,

is a less than desired home life, begins to walk

up and down the crowded isles,

searching for happiness, or to forget,

or perhaps just for a donut.

Old men fill the booths,

drinking their coffee, also on tabs,

talking just loud enough,

to make ease dropping, easy.

Huskers looking good this year, despicable politics,

crazy weather, and how all of their grandchildren,

especially their oldest, are making them proud.

The high school kids from three blocks away,

meander behind the cooler doors,

wiping the sleep away from their eyes,

locating the Red Bull or Mountain Dew,

that will allow them to make it through their day,

trudging from class to class,

until eventually they will get to

wherever it is they would like to be,

like the owners of the cars outside,

who fuel up their tanks,

pumping in as little, or as much,

gas that is required to get them

from point A to point B,

and back home again.

I stand alone in the corner holding my coffee,

warming my hands, refueling the heart,

watching Barb take care of all of her customers,

calling each of them by first name as if their own mother.

And now the little girl, having finished her donut,

smiles back at the old man, at Barb,

she opens the door and I watch her exit to school

knowing this is the way it is meant to be

that kindness is the hope to the soul.